


A Late Night

by superqueerdanvers



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pining, Pining Martin Blackwood, Pre-Relationship, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:08:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27721892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superqueerdanvers/pseuds/superqueerdanvers
Summary: Martin can't sleep, and is surprised to find Jon still in the Archives and working.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 10
Kudos: 115





	A Late Night

After nearly an hour of staring at the ceiling, Martin gave up on sleep. Maybe he could look through Jane Prentiss’s file again, see if there was anything he’d missed.

To his surprise, there was a still a light on in Jon’s office, and the door stood slightly open. Jon sat at his desk, flipping through a stack of files. Martin considered asking why he was still at work and telling him to go home and get some rest, then decided against it. The last thing he needed was his boss mad at him for suggesting he take care of himself. Again.

Martin went to the file cabinet and found Jane Prentiss’s file. At the sound of the drawer closing, Jon looked up and blinked. “Martin? What are you doing here?”

“Um, I’m staying here? Jane Prentiss was at my flat, so you said—“

“No, I know why you’re here, I mean why are you _here_?” He gestured vaguely. “In the work area. Now.”

“Oh! I couldn’t sleep.” He held up the file. “Thought I’d look through Prentiss’s file again while I’m up.”

Jon blinked again. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his usually neat bun was messy. Strands of hair hung loose around his face, and there was a pen stuck haphazardly through the drooping bun. It was oddly cute. “It’s past midnight.”

“I know.”

“You should be asleep.”

Martin blinked at him. Jon had never told him to _stop_ working before. “I know, I just thought since I’m up, I might as well do something productive.”

“Go to bed, Martin,” Jon said brusquely.

“But—“

“The file will still be here in the morning. Make some tea or something if you can’t sleep.” He looked down at his own files again.

“What about you?” Martin asked.

Jon didn’t look up. “I’m busy. I’m looking through these old statements to see if—“

“Jon.”

He looked up, and Martin itched to brush the hair out of his face. “You should go home.” Jon stared at him, and he flushed. “Uh, I mean, like you said. The files will still be here in the morning.”

After a moment, Jon shook his head. “I really should get this done. You go to bed, I’ll be fine.”

“No.” Martin surprised even himself with how firm his voice was. He took a deep breath, and continued. “I’m not going to bed while you’re still working. Go home and get some sleep.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to with everything going on,” Jon said, but he set down the file he’d been reading.

Martin sighed. “At least lie down and try to rest. Come on, I’ll make you some tea.”

* * *

As he poured the tea into two mugs, with enough left over for Jon to take it home in his thermos, Martin asked, “Hey, do you want me to walk you to the Tube station?”

“Actually, that would be nice. If you’re all right walking back here alone?”

Martin shrugged. “Not like it’ll be any creepier than staying here alone.”

* * *

They arrived at the station a little early and sat on a bench to wait for Jon’s train. Martin told himself that Jon was only sitting so close because the night air was cold and his cardigan was thin, but that didn’t stop his heart rate from going up. Minutes passed as they sat in silence, and Jon’s head gradually dropped onto Martin’s shoulder. Barely breathing, Martin turned his head to look at Jon’s face. Eyes closed, lips parted just a little. A stray bit of hair had fallen in front of his face and moved slightly with his breath. He was asleep.

Martin raised his hand to tuck Jon’s hair behind his ear, then paused, fingers hovering over his face. Did he dare touch him? What if he woke up? He looked so peaceful, so vulnerable right now, and he desperately needed the rest. How could Martin disturb that?

The train swept into the station, and Martin let his hand fall back to his lap as Jon blinked awake, face scrunching in momentary confusion before he remembered where he was. He looked at Martin and sat up. “Oh. Martin. I’m sorry, did I—“

“It’s fine!” Martin squeaked, his voice about an octave higher than usual. He cleared his throat. “Um, your train’s here.”

“Oh. Yes. And uh, thank you. For waiting with me. And for the tea.”

“Anytime!” Martin said, a bit too brightly.

“Well, then, good night!” Jon stood and turned toward the train, and Martin saw the pen still stuck in his bun.

“Wait!” Jon turned around. “You have a…” And before he could lose his nerve, Martin plucked the pen from Jon’s hair and handed it to him.

Jon blinked. “Oh. Thank you!”

“No problem! And um, good night, Jon.”

“Good night, Martin.” And Jon stepped onto the train.

Martin walked back to the Institute with a feeling of warmth in his chest, and he fell asleep remembering the feeling of Jon’s head on his shoulder.


End file.
